


Familiar

by I_mNotYourEnemy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_mNotYourEnemy/pseuds/I_mNotYourEnemy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a strange shop perched on the corner of the street run by and old man with an obscenely long beard. Arthur passes it daily but has never been inside. When he does venture past the door, he can't help but feel a very strange sense of familiarity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familiar

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously set in modern time. I'm not sure how I intended for this to turn out but I'm pretty sure it wasn't like this. Oh well, it's close enough. I'll let you come to your own conclusions about the ending.

When Arthur is born, it comes with a great fanfare from the press, all wanting to know everything about the heir to the Pendragon company throne. They receive barely any news. His arrival into the world had first been a cause of great joy for his father—he’s always wanted a son—but the untimely passing of his mother is just a reminder that one cannot stay happy for too long. The world always needs to be in balance. Arthur grows knowing that he is the reminder of his mother; that without him, she would’ve lived.

When Arthur is three, they move to London, away from the memories that stain their past. It’s just father and son now. It had been tough, but Arthur is destined to make his father proud, to prove that he is a worthy son.

London treats them kindly.  Their house, while overly large, is situated in a safe area where Arthur could run wild to his heart’s content. He attends a school for young boys with rich fathers and excels in everything. It is expected of him, even though he still has difficulty tying shoe laces. His hair stays tame and almost disbelievingly gold while his eyes shine a bright blue. A perfect boy, people tell him. He would grow to be a prince and perhaps one day a king. Arthur cares not for this, though. He is young and careless and only behaves when his father brings friends over.

He slowly absorbs the correct mannerisms. He learns how to address his father’s business partners and how to charm Lady Vivienne with his hopeful youth; how to stay quiet during dinners and how to speak when spoken to. He meets an almost alarming number of adults for a boy his age but handles the unfamiliarity well. They only ever ask him about school and friends; is he in the sports teams, had he made any friends, how were his grades? He hardly ever sees the relevance of these questions, but answers them politely nonetheless.

When Arthur is six, a new member is added to the family. He hears the arguments from his father’s office for days but never comments on it. He doesn’t understand much of what is said but listens all the same. One day, he’s taken aside and told that he has a sister. He doesn’t mind; he’s always wanted a sibling. Morgana is tinier than he thought she would be. He’s allowed to hold her but only briefly and under adult supervision. He asks where her mother is but does not get a reply.

When Arthur is nine, he’s taught about politics and business. He finds the whole thing rather dull but listens anyway. He’d much rather be in one of his self-defence lessons or out on the sports field, but he can’t always be running around in the mud. Sometimes he has to stop and listen; he has to learn.

He understands the basic principles perfectly. He’s told about the family business—something to do with foreign relations, apparently—and that he will one day be the head of it. He asks why someone who already works there won’t run it but this is a silly question. He has to answer it himself and guesses, correctly, that it’s a family thing. He wonders whether Morgana will be the queen to his king.

School is strange. The teachers treat him nicely but he can see that their smiles don’t reach their eyes. He heard a saying once and thinks it’s applicable to school; it’s like they’re walking on eggshells. No one tells him off for doing something wrong and his correct answers are always met with copious amounts of praise. The children treat him as one of their own. He’s rather fond of his friends and loves playing with them, but his father only laughs at him when he says they’ll be friends forever.

When Arthur is eleven, he understands why his father laughs. He moves school—this one is much bigger, much more intimidating—and loses practically all contact with his old friends. He sees them occasionally but they never talk for long. It saddens him, but he supposes he can just get new friends. There’re enough people in this school and lots of them already know who he is. The boys in his year accept him readily and are almost gleeful to welcome him amongst their ranks.

His friends are strange. It takes Arthur exactly two days to realise this. Gwaine talks mostly about food and whatever he watched on television last night, Percy is startlingly tall for his age and avoids wearing sleeves as if they have personally wronged him, and Leon, while extremely reliable, has a wild mess of curls on his head that usually provides amusement for their little group. They laugh together, learn together, cause trouble together, and are barely separable. Arthur can’t bring himself to miss his old friends anymore.

School is also strange. The teachers treat him just the same as they had before, although a few are adamant that they will treat Arthur just the same as the rest of the students, but his classmates begin to act more and more like the teachers every day. Arthur sees his name pop up in the newspaper now and then, rarely accompanied with a photograph, but it is always followed by a bout of stares and whispers that follow him through the halls. He ignores them, mostly. People treat him nicely and offer him a place at their table when it comes to lunch, but he politely declines each time. He’d rather just get through school with some essence of normality intact. 

His father keeps a close eye on his grades. He pushes him to partake in as many extra-curricular activities as possible, join every sports team available, and still somehow complete his homework to a satisfactory standard. The whole process is taxing and exhausting but he never receives more than an appreciative nod from him. Sometimes Arthur wonders whether this is worth it.

En route to school, he notices a strange shop. His school is roughly a mile from his house, possibly longer if you counted all the winding streets Arthur had to travel down to get there. He’d been offered a lift from the family driver more times than he could count but he never accepted; he likes walking.

He always passes the shop about ten minutes after setting off. It’s perched on the corner of a street with a strangely ominous sign hanging over it that reads ‘Magia’ in a barely legible script. Arthur only notices it part way into November, at which point he begins to stare into the windows as he passes. They’re filled with lists and prices and bottles and boxes and herbs and some objects that Arthur can’t identify. He only ever takes a few seconds to peer in through the window before hastily moving on. He tells himself that he has no real desire to go inside, even though he can feel the curiosity bubbling inside him.

When Arthur is twelve, he has his first fight with his father. He’s still in his first year of senior school but Uther seems to overestimate just how much Arthur can cope with. The argument begins with a simple disagreement over the breakfast table which soon escalates to shouting. Morgana watches on silently, not daring to interfere. Arthur leaves his porridge half-eaten on the table and hastily leaves for school. He can hear his father call after him but he can apologise after school—one of them has to.

When he passes Magia today, he’s mildly surprised to see that the door’s open. He’d thought that the inside of the shop would be dusty and completely cluttered, but it’d kept reasonably tidy. Books spill over onto every surface and Arthur’s sure he can hear a few animal noises coming from within.

“Are you going to come in or just stand there gawking?”

Arthur jumps. He hadn’t seen the old man. After a moment’s hesitation, he decides that it’s far too early for school and enters.

The shops smells old but cared for. There’s a large room with two doors to the side, but only one is open. The main room consists of mostly shelves and counters, each covered with curious little objects or peculiar herbs, and occasionally what looks like precious rocks. Arthur cranes his neck subtly to see into the other room. It looks somewhat like a demented kitchen littered with bottles of varying contents. A pointed cough draws Arthur’s attention to the man, who he assumes own the shop. He’s clearly very old but there’s a certain fire in his eyes, one that looks like it would be difficult to extinguish. His beard and hair are long and wispy, each strand as white as the next. He’s clad in simple black trousers and a red shirt, although both look worn out and tattered.

“You took your time getting here.”

Arthur frowns at this. “I thought I came through the door rather quickly.”

The man chuckles. “No, just in general.”

Arthur has the feeling that the man is talking about something else entirely but decides not to ask. “Apologies. I—this is an interesting shop.”

“Anything and everything necessary for the magically inclined are contained within these walls,” replies the man, and Arthur begins to think that he’s crazy.

“You can’t be serious,” Arthur scoffs, momentarily forgetting his manners. “Magic?”

“Some people are believers, some aren’t. There was a time when magic was greatly feared, not scoffed at by young boys whoare late for school.”

Arthur checks his watch to find that he’d managed to spend longer in here than he thought he had. “Oh, right. I should—er, be going.” He gives a small nod and hurries out of the shop, hearing a ‘goodbye, Arthur’ follow him. Arthur doesn’t recall telling the man his name.

He apologises to his father that evening and the fight is long forgotten. Everything returns more-or-less to normal. His friends continue to be rowdy, his sister learns to play the piano, and Arthur begins to pause for longer as he passes Magia. There’s something about the man inside that seems just—just so familiar.

When Arthur is thirteen, he returns to the shop. His first visit had been close to summer and the end of school, which meant he had no need to pass by the shop for a while. Even when he returns to school, he doesn’t visit again—not for a while, at least.

He notices how elements of his life are beginning to shift. His father brings home more influential people from work and they all seem rather keen to talk to Arthur about business. He even has an interview with a newspaper about political beliefs of the younger generation. Arthur had thought it went quite drastically but everyone else seems to be proud of him. His sporting career is going nicely; he’s made captain of the teams and his self-defence teacher is amazed by his progress. His grades waver every now and then, but he usually maintains a good average.

Something that strikes him as particularly odd, though, is how many accidents he seems to have and how few of them result in any harm. If he steps into the street without seeing an oncoming bus, the bus will swerve drastically just to avoid him. If a hooded man decides to take it upon himself to attack Arthur, he’s thrown back by an invisible force before Arthur can even react. Even if he just drops a folder on the way to school, the papers will assemble themselves into a neat pile, ready for Arthur to pick up. This is partially the reason why he decides to return to Magia, but also why he avoided it in the first place.

The old man has installed a bell over the door this time. It tinkles its little tune and alerts anyone within to Arthur’s presence. Everything in the shop has remained the same, as far as Arthur can tell.  There’s a distinct noise of disturbance beyond one of the closed doors and a faint yelp, as if something has fallen on someone. Arthur smirks to himself.

The old man emerges and from the brief glimpse Arthur catches, the second door in the shop leads to a small hallway and a staircase to what he could only assume was a living space. The old man looks disgruntled and hurried, pulling on a loose brown jacket as he closes the door.

“Hello,” greets Arthur.

“Arthur,” says the man, nodding at him. “How can I help you?”

Arthur pauses, his brows drawn in thought. “I’m not sure. I just thought I should visit and apologise. For last time, I mean. I didn’t intend to insult your trade.”

“You’ve gotten taller,” the man comments, completely randomly.

“Well—uh—yes, that’s what people tend to do.” It’s been a fair few months since his last visit and he’d grown exactly five inches—not that he was counting or anything.

“Perhaps if you came in more often then I wouldn’t have noticed.”

A sudden pang of guilt hits Arthur’s chest. “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy and I didn’t think my absence would be missed.”

There’s a look that flashes over the other’s face but it’s so hidden by hair and wrinkles that Arthur can’t decipher it. “No harm caused, lad.” He then busies himself with gathering several herbs and plants, and making his way to the kitchen area. Arthur follows him.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” The man looks at him in a way that Arthur interprets to mean ‘continue’. “I’ve been—well, I’m not saying any of this business is real but there’ve been certain, uh—“

“Just spit it out.”

“Have you been using magic for me?”

A smile pulls at the man’s lips and he turns to Arthur. “What a peculiar question.”

“Are you going to answer it?”

“No.” Without looking at a clock or even asking Arthur, he says, “You should be getting home. You forgot to tell your father you’d be late.”

Arthur’s beyond concern and slight worry and has moved onto looking rather impressed. He manoeuvres his way through the counters until he’s back by the door. “What’s your name?”

“Dragoon,” replies the man, and then Arthur’s gone.

Arthur’s second year at senior school goes considerably more smoothly. By now, his friends have adapted to the mundane routine and figured out when and where they can cause a little mayhem without getting caught. Arthur, of course, partakes in said mayhem but makes sure his father hears nothing of it. His father seems to be obsessed with moulding him into a perfect son, which Arthur allows for the most part. Many of the skills he needs to acquire are actually quite interesting, although he would much prefer it if he could skip the daily lectures on responsibility.

He makes a point to visit Magia weekly, usually after school on Fridays. His friends catch on after a couple of weeks but do not question him. His father just thinks he’s staying late after school to socialise. He’d be mortified if he found out his son spent a couple of hours each week talking with a crazy, old man.

Dragoon is fascinating. Arthur has never seen any customers in the shop but, according to the man, business thrives. Arthur had assumed ther only source of income would be people with nowhere else to go but magic or those who genuinely do believe, but apparently herbal teas and natural ailments can be personally made. When Arthur catches the flu, Dragoon has a small bottle with a viscous blue liquid waiting for him. Arthur feels fine within the hour.

Talking to Dragoon is strangely easy. The man rarely talks about himself, usually about his work or a particularly odd customer he’d had earlier in the day. Arthur talks widely about school and his friends and his clubs and the pressures constantly placed upon him. Dragoon tells him that he’ll be great one day, regardless of how he thinks he may fail now. This is somewhat comforting to hear. They fall into a vague routine where Arthur will talk and Dragoon will insult, but always in a fond manner that often has Arthur grinning but confused. He doesn’t really know what a 'clotpole' is.

When Arthur is fourteen, he breaks his arm. It’s overwhelmingly painful and he gets at least ten minutes of shouting from his father before the doctors calm him down. Apparently good sons don’t break their arms and endanger their chances of captainship again. Arthur doesn’t see what the problem is; he can always be captain when he heals. In fact, he’s sure to make captain again. Leon is currently taking his place but assures Arthur that he’ll gladly step down to allow their ‘king’ to return to his rightful position. (Arthur wishes the history teacher hadn’t told them about King Arthur—he still hasn’t heard the last of it.)

When he leaves hospital and returns to his daily life, Dragoon has a small package for him. He opens it to find a small cube that’s a little squidgy and an alarmingly bright shade of green. He trusts Dragoon when he tells him to eat it. The pain in his arm is alleviated and he’s told not to take any more pain medication. Arthur doesn’t know why he trusts Dragoon; he just does.

Fourteen is also when Arthur begins to notice girls. Dragoon teases him mercilessly when he lets slip a girl’s name—‘eh, who’s this Gwen?’—and he blushes. Dragoon only stops when Arthur expresses genuine concern over the situation and Dragoon tells him not to worry.

“You’re a good chap, Arthur. She’d be mad not to fall head over heels.”

On the way out, he tries to ignore Dragoon’s offers of making him a love potion.

When Arthur is fifteen, exams start to become a reality. Pressures build and his performance fluctuates. He’s not sure he can cope but he has people around him to rely on. His friends are undergoing the same thought processes so they all help each other out, especially since Arthur’s father is offering no advice. He expects top grades in everything but gives no means of achieving them.

Gwen becomes an honorary member of their group. It had taken a while, but Arthur had plucked up the courage to ask her out, and she’d said yes. Unlike most school romances, they lasted more than a week and Arthur had to double-check with Dragoon to make sure he wasn’t interfering. Gwen is sweet and kind and smart and Arthur often finds himself staring at her with a dumbstruck expression, much to his friends’ amusement.

His weekly visits to Magia start to become more than weekly and he begins helping out while he’s there. It started out as him organising a few books while Dragoon dealt with a customer and cascaded into Arthur learning how to make healing creams and stress-relieving teas—which he may have taken home afterwards.

Leon follows him home one day, with Arthur’s consent, of course, and Arthur takes him to Magia. He figures that someone else should know since he’s been visiting for almost three years. Leon is suitably impressed by the array of displays and how much Arthur knows about them. Dragoon is surprised to find another boy accompanying Arthur but welcomes Leon all the same. Leon talks about how he’s always wondered what Arthur got up to and even tells him about their on-going ‘King Arthur’ joke. Dragoon finds this very entertaining.  

When Arthur is sixteen, Uther takes him aside to have a serious talk with him. He talks about expectations and responsibilities and how he shouldn’t allow any teenage impulses to obstruct his future. Arthur is slightly horrified by this talk, but it then transcends into yet another lecture about how he needs to be prepared for his future and should do everything possible to ensure that he’s ahead of the competition. He can recite the talk off by heart.

He doesn’t visit Dragoon during his study leave and exam period. (He’s stopped pretending he’s visiting Magia; they both know he goes there to talk to Dragoon.) He notifies the man beforehand and while he looks saddened by this, he understands. He makes Arthur take a good luck charm before he leaves.

Morgana begins to catch onto his not-so-secret secret. She sees the neck hanging around Arthur’s neck and snatches at it, eliciting a strangled noise from her brother. She questions whether it’s a gift from Gwen but Arthur replies that no, a different friend got it for him. She becomes suspicious when he doesn’t say which friend.

Uther does not approve of Gwen, even though she’s been part of Arthur’s life for months now. He expresses his dissatisfaction with her almost daily and each time leaves Arthur clutching white-knuckled at the nearest surface so he doesn’t retaliate violently. Uther allows Arthur and Gwen to keep dating purely on the basis that Arthur thinks he did quite well in his exams.

This is an understatement. Uther buys him a car when he receives his results, even though Arthur cannot legally drive yet.

When Arthur is seventeen, he breaks up with Gwen. After weeks of turning the thought over in his head, he finally goes through with it. She had moved schools and consequently moved city. Long distance relationships never appealed to Arthur and while he still loves Gwen, he could not tie her down. Uther has no sympathy.

Five years after Arthur discovered Magia, Uther finds out. Morgana blames herself but Arthur tells her not to.

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” she says through her door.

“It’s not your fault, Morgana,” replies Arthur, waiting for her to open the door, but she never does. “I shouldn’t have done it.”

His father’s rage is frightening. He shouts until his voice is hoarse and his cheeks flame red. Arthur did not have a chance to explain himself for whatever crime he had apparently committed. He stands there and looks ahead. He will not apologise when no harm has been caused. His father in unjust and prejudice, and finally Arthur can see it.

He visits Dragoon for what he thinks is the last time. He has a small box containing items borrowed over the past five years; his father had demanded them to be taken out of his house.  He wouldn't allow anyone to find out that his son talks to strange men about magic and sorcery. He will not allow his son to engage with anyone below him.

He tries to stay strong as Dragoon opens the door before he has the chance to enter. He knows. Arthur doesn’t know how, but Dragoon always knows. He takes the box gratefully and tells Arthur to keep the necklace. Arthur says nothing as he parts.

He carries out the rest of the school year while mostly avoiding his father. He keeps up to date with business and economic news and becomes practically an expert in foreign relations. More than once he makes an offhand comment over dinner in an attempt to impress Uther. He may disagree with nearly all of the man’s beliefs but he could easily destroy any career Arthur intends on pursuing without a second thought. He needs to keep on good terms with the man if he wishes to be successful. Once he's clear of London, he's free to do as he pleases. 

His next batch of exam results earns him a new computer. Arthur doesn’t use it.

When Arthur is eighteen, he starts to think more seriously about university. His course is obvious—political and international relations—but a few places have caught his eye. With his multitude of skills and his adeptness at sport on top of his grades, he’s pretty much guaranteed a placement anywhere he likes, preferably somewhere far away from London. Far away from his father.

His final year at school passes in a blur of rushed note-taking, late night study sessions at Gwaine’s, and, finally, the last day of school. He feels a hollowness in his chest as he makes his way home. His exams have been completed, his courses finished. All he needs now is to wait for September to roll over so he can start the whole process again. He wonders whether he’ll miss London. He knows he’ll miss his friends and his teammates, even though they’ve promised to keep in touch, but he’s not too sure about the place itself. He might miss the extra-large pastries sold by the café near school, or the independent music shop that Morgana frequents, and perhaps even the take-away place that does truly horrifyingly greasy chicken.

And then he thinks of Magia.

The necklace still hangs around his neck as a subtle reminder of the joys the place had brought him; the pain it had relieved, the nerves it had calmed. He’d spent so long in there that it wouldn’t feel right not to say goodbye, even if he hadn’t visited in far too long.

When he arrives at the corner of the street, he’s shocked to see the boarded up windows and ‘for sale’ sign on the door. He closes the remaining gap at a sprint and then stands before the door, unable to think or move.

Then the door handle moves.

A boy around his age, but probably older, emerges. He has cropped dark hair, pale skin, and high cheek bones. He’s winding a blue scarf around his neck and starts when he turns around and sees Arthur. There’s a brief flail of gangly limbs before the boy offers an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, Arthur. I didn’t see you.”

Arthur can’t help but stare. He looks at the boy and thinks of mystical lands and thrilling swordfights and immense magic.

He remembers.

“Hello, Merlin.”


End file.
